


nobody understands us and i don't understand it

by searchingforstars



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Birthday, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Kinda Outsider POV, Nightmares, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-12 04:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20984138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingforstars/pseuds/searchingforstars
Summary: Five times somebody doesn’t quite understand Tony and Peter’s relationship + the one time it finally makes perfect sense.





	1. a missed call

Happy gets the call at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night. He’s sitting at the head of the table in a conference room in the compound, the entirety of Tony’s security detail in attendance. Tony is slated to appear at next week's Stark Foundation charity gala alongside Pepper, so there's lots to do before then.

But just as he’s in the middle of reiterating for the third time what he considers to be one of the most important points of the night, highlighting the most efficient escape routes on a map of the venue floor plan, his ringtone blares obnoxiously. He glances down to see Peter’s name flashing on the screen. Happy contemplates for a second before reaching down to hit decline, sending the kid to voicemail. As much as he truly does admire Peter for what he does as Spider-Man, things like walking young women home in the dark and stopping corner store robberies, he’s never exactly considered listening to blow by blow recounts of such incidents as particularly high on his must-do-list as head of security.

If the kid really needs someone, he’ll be calling Tony anyway. Especially since the two of them seem to be getting more buddy-buddy recently.

Tony's taken over nearly all personal communication with Peter, and although Happy can’t for the life of him figure out why Tony _wants_ to do that, or even has the time to deal with the endless amounts of voicemails, it’s a job off his back so he had gladly forwarded Tony Peter’s number when he’d asked for it. Now, the only thing he has left to do is somehow convince Tony to battle the New York traffic and make the trip each Saturday morning all the way from Upstate down to Queens to fetch Peter for his internship, and he might finally have all his time free to focus on his _ actual _job.

Happy watches his phone to make sure it doesn’t ring again before slipping it into his suit jacket pocket and looking back up to apologise briefly for the interruption. When he does, he quickly finds that half of his men look like mere they’re minutes away from nodding off so he resolves to wrap the rest of this up quickly so he can send them all home.

“We can see here that the fire door near the west stairwell won’t be ideal at all seeing as it leads directly out onto the main road. The fire door leading from the kitchen, however, is our best bet in an emergency situation. It leads out back instead, into the private parking lot which will mean that we can reconvene off public property,” Happy finishes his explanation, getting absolutely no response apart from something that sounds vaguely like a snore from the very end of the table. He sighs tiredly. “You know what? We’ll finish this off tomorrow morning,” Happy concedes, “but we still have the second level of the floor plan to strategise for, so I want everyone back here by eight o’clock sharp.” 

There are a few vacant nods in his direction as everyone files out of the room, and Happy waits until the door clicks closed behind the last one before dropping his head into his hands and groaning. 

Happy’s finally stepping out of the room five minutes later after having carefully folded and stored away all the maps and documentation that he’ll need to pull back out for when they pick back up tomorrow morning. He’s intent on heading up a few floors to collect his bag and making his way home when he runs into Tony, standing in front of the elevator. He's still wearing his suit, but his tie is loose around his neck and the top three buttons of his dress shirt are undone. He’s obviously just finished up something like a conference call. He barely even notices Happy approach him, too busy frowning intently at his phone.

“Hey Boss, everything okay?”

Tony glances up at the sound of his voice. Happy frowns at the worry evident on his face. “Oh yeah, nothing to worry about Hap. Well, at least not yet. Just wondering why I haven’t heard from Peter, that damn kid I swear.” 

The elevator opens but neither of them steps into it. Happy swallows slightly. His phone displaying the ‘one new voicemail from Peter Parker,’ notification on the home screen suddenly feels slightly heavier in his pocket. “Were you expecting to?”

“I just - yeah, he was meant to be investigating these arms-dealer guys tonight, maybe importing assault rifles illegally or something, real low-grade black-market shit. Nothing like the Chitauri tech again, thank god. I didn’t particularly feel like having another heart attack tonight. Anyways, not important. What _is_ important is that the kid told me that he’d let me know if it got hairy or when he got home, but so far he has managed to do exactly neither of those things.”

Happy isn’t sure whether he’s imagining the edge of worry to Tony’s tone because he’s had a long night. Even so, he immediately feels the slightest bit guilty for sending the kid to voicemail. “I had a call from him about an hour ago, so I’m sure he’s fine.”

“_What_?” Tony looks up from his phone sharply again. “Why the hell didn’t you just open with that Hogan? What did he say?”

“Chill Tony, I didn’t pick up, but I think he might have left a voicemail?”

“Why the hell didn’t you pick up?”

“You know what the kid’s like, half the time he’s just found a cat stuck up a tree or something. My main priority is to stop _you_ from being shot, not listen to that,” Happy tries to reason but Tony doesn’t look any less unimpressed. 

“Yeah well, lucky for you I deal with everything to do with him anyway now, so he shouldn’t have even been calling you in the first place but if he _ is_, I want you to pick up.” 

“Look," Happy says, trying to regain control of the situation. Tony is spiralling in a weird way that's unfamiliar to him. "Let’s just listen to the voicemail now if that will ease your mind a little bit, I have it right here.” Happy pulls his phone from his pocket as Tony shoots him a glare as if he’s insulted that Happy is insinuating that Tony needs his mind easing right now, as if he could potentially care about the kid.

He then proceeds to immediately counteract that by snatching Happy’s phone out of his hand and opening the voicemail. When he presses play, Peter’s voice, tinny-sounding from the phone speakers, fills the silent hallway. 

“_Uh, hey Happy. I know this is totally stupid and embarrassing, but I was doing a bit of snooping around these super sketchy arms guys tonight, actually they left not too long ago - I hid on the roof and got some super clear shots of their number plates as they drove away, I’ll get Karen to send them to F.R.I.D.A.Y - um, but anyway, I kinda might have managed to run out of web fluid and I didn't bring any extra canisters, which was dumb, and I’m pretty sure I’m way out towards the outskirts of town. I’d just walk but I think I landed funny on one of my ankles and it’s just the tiniest bit swollen, not a big deal but just a little bit sore, y’know? I guess I’m just asking for a ride, maybe, if you’re around? I know it’s late so I get if you're busy. Or asleep, probably. I mean, the buses start up around five or six am anyway, so I might be fine until then. I’m sure if I found a way back into the warehouse I'm at __and called May to let her know, she might not freak out too bad, especially if I’m inside somewhere. Anyway, call me back. Thanks!_”

Only Peter Parker could manage to sound so bright when he’s stranded at the edge of town, with his two options seemingly looking like spending the night in a black market assault rifle warehouse or walking miles back to Queens with a swollen ankle. 

Listening to the voicemail clearly hasn’t put Tony’s mind at rest. In fact, he looks significantly more uneasy than he had before. Happy can’t quite make sense of it. Peter sounds fine, he’s had a lot worse than a sprained ankle before. “If you pull up his location and forward that to me, I’ll go get him,” Happy says, glad that he left his car keys in his pocket earlier. He steps forward to call the elevator for a second time. 

“I’m coming with you,” Tony states as if it’s obvious.

“I know I should have picked up his call earlier and I will whenever he calls next, but you really don’t have to Boss, I’ve got him. You can trust me.” 

“No, it’s - I,” Tony’s searching for the right words to say as Happy studies him, “I trust you. Obviously. Even when you don’t pick up the damn phone. But I’m responsible for him, so I’ll come with.” Tony’s face is set in the way it always does when he’s made up his mind so Happy just lets him follow him into the elevator as he punches in the code for the underground parking garage. 

Tony’s twitchy as he sits in the passenger seat next to Happy. He’d given the kid a quick call to let him know that they were coming and that he could cancel his plans to break back into a weapons warehouse for overnight accomodation, before pulling up the tracker in Peter’s suit. He’d recited the address to Happy to enter into the GPS when they first got in the car, but even so he's rarely taking his eyes off the tiny red dot on his phone screen signalling Peter’s location. It's almost as if he thinks the second he pulls his eyes away for more than a few seconds at a time then Peter, or at least the digital approximation of his current whereabouts, might disappear. 

Happy doesn’t mention it. He knows that Tony hates others calling him out when he’s stressed and wound up. 

It takes them about forty minutes to reach the location that Tony has been so intently focusing on. Happy is expecting some sort of security to have to contend with, but a derelict looking chain-link fence on a slight lean is all there is. It looks like it might have been electrified once but that’s clearly a thing of the past. 

Happy can just about make out Peter in the shadows, resting up against a wall of the dark building that must be the warehouse. He has his knees pulled up to his chest, and Happy hopes he has the common sense to have the heater that he knows Tony built into his suit turned on. It’s not particularly warm out tonight. 

Tony has his hand on the door handle before Happy even has his foot on the break to pull up only a few meters away from where Peter is sitting. “At least let me put the damn thing in park, would you?” Happy admonishes, but he has to slam on the breaks anyway when Tony opens the door and makes to get out without listening to him. 

By the time Happy’s pulled up the handbrake and climbed out of the car to do a sweep of the area to ensure they’re alone, Tony’s already offering a hand up to Peter.

“_Ouch_” Peter sucks in a sharp breath as he sets weight on his left ankle and Tony grimaces in clear concern. 

“Yep, we’re definitely gonna have to get that one checked out, Pete.” 

“Just a bit swollen, no biggie.”

“Yeah, well once we get back, we’ll get that suit off you and someone at medical will be the judge of that.” 

Peter pouts in response. “I don’t _ need _ medical, promise.” Tony just rolls his eyes, but wraps his arms around the kid’s shoulder and helps him hobble over to the car. “Hey Happy,” Peter says, once they reach him. He throws what is obviously meant to be a smile in Happy’s direction, but it comes across as more of a wince. Happy returns it anyway.

“Hey, kid. Sorry I didn’t get your call right away,” He offers, and Peter opens his mouth to reply, probably with something polite and respectful because Peter still hasn’t quite worked up the nerve to give anyone apart from Tony the full extent of his sarcasm and wit, but Tony jumps in. 

“Oh _ yeah_, that’s something we need to talk about. Why on earth did you call Happy instead of me, Pete? You know the man’s hopeless at picking up phone calls. 

Happy thinks that statement is slightly unfair and not entirely true. He’s not hopeless at picking up all phone calls, just Peter’s_ occasionally_, when there are other, more pressing issues at hand. 

Peter shrugs. “You said you had that thing tonight? That phone call thingy? With someone in China? You were complaining about it yesterday but I thought it sounded important, I didn’t want to interrupt or anything, so I thought it was better to just call Happy, I guess.”

“Yeah, _no_. You ever need me, you call me. I don’t care what I’m doing, or what you think I might be doing. Whatever shit you get into is on me, remember? I can’t help you sort it out if you don’t keep me filled in on what’s going on, kiddo.” 

“Got it, Mister Stark.” Tony nods, satisfied with his concession before stepping back to help Peter slip into the car without putting any unnecessary weight on his ankle, before, much to Happy’s surprise, dropping right into the backseat next to him. 

Tony must catch him staring because he glances up to meet his eyes. “What? I doubt I was very good company on the way over here, you won’t miss me now.” 

Happy supposes he can’t argue with that so he just turns and shuts the door on the two of them. Once he’s sitting in the driver's seat, Tony’s fussing over trying to elevate Peter’s leg in his lap and Happy has to resist the urge to stare in the rearview mirror, because what the hell? Happy wonders whether his eyes are deceiving him.

But despite the mother-henning that seems to be occurring, Tony is less twitchy and far more collected. His phone is stowed somewhere back in his pocket. He doesn’t need to stare down at a tracker. He has Peter right next to him. That seems to settle something inside of him.

Happy starts the ignition and as he does, the partition begins to slip up. Before it can fully reach the top and block out his view, he’s _ sure _ he sees Tony wrap an arm around the kid and pull him right into his side, Peter leaning into the touch. 

He tries not to dwell on it as he backs out of the lot and back onto the dark road, but his brows furrow anyway. He’s one of Tony’s oldest friends and his job as head of security is to be on top of everything, at all times, but for once, Happy's feeling hopelessly in the dark.


	2. a sixteenth birthday

When Peter gets home from school on the 8th of August, two days before his sixteenth birthday, May Parker is sitting on the sofa in their small living room, hunched over slightly to sort all of the bills on the coffee table. 

“Hey, May! I'm home,” he announces. She hears the familiar sound of his backpack hitting the floor and his textbooks thudding against the floorboards echoing from the doorway. Automatically, she shoves some of the scarier and more pressing bills that are concerning her underneath some unopened ones. She doesn’t need Peter to see them, but regardless his footsteps make straight for the kitchen anyway, as per usual.

“Hey honey,” she calls in reply, “how was school?”

“Good,” he says with his mouth full, entering the living room with one of the protein bars that Tony and Bruce have developed to try and satisfy his metabolism in hand. He sits down opposite her. “Can I ask you something?”

May glances up, immediately giving him her full attention. He doesn’t look particularly tense or worried so she relaxes slightly back into the couch cushions. “Of course, anything.” 

“I, uh, I was wondering whether, maybe, I could ask Mister Stark out to dinner with us on Thursday for my birthday? I just, it would be nice to have him there but only if it’s okay of course,” Peter trails off and bites his lip, looking towards May like he’s not sure what her reaction will be.

And honestly, even May isn’t entirely sure what her reaction should be. She’s never been Tony Stark’s biggest fan, that isn’t exactly news. Peter adores him though, that much is obvious, and he’s been spending more time than ever recently up at the compound, doing god knows what his internship involves. May prefers not to know too many gory details of his Spider-Man escapades anyway. It makes it easier to accept that her nephew is out there putting his life on the line almost every night when she doesn’t have to hear about every near-miss with death that he encounters. Stark has picked up that responsibility, so she’s indebted to him for that, she supposes. But even so, this is still the man who plucked Peter out of high school for a week and flew him to Germany to fight _ Captain America_, while lying to her through his teeth in his trademark convincing manner about a Stark Internship 'retreat'.

When she doesn’t reply, Peter averts his gaze down to the floor slightly as he speaks next, “I totally get if it’s too much for both him and Ned to come, I probably shouldn’t have even asked. Can we forget it?”

May immediately feels bad, because trust Peter to turn it into a money thing. They’re not exactly rich by any means and Peter’s aware of this, of the struggle it takes to keep their little household afloat. She wishes that he could just stop _worrying _and let her treat him, especially for his sixteenth birthday. 

“Oh no, no, Peter, honey, that’s not it at all. I was just a little surprised, that’s all. But if you want Tony to be there, then invite him. It’s your day.” 

“Are you sure?” Peter asks hesitantly and May nods, smiling at him.

“Of course, it would be nice to have him there. Really, really nice, actually.”

Peter looks slightly skeptical. May wonders whether she’s gone overboard in trying to prove to Peter that she’s okay with this, but he just returns her smile and stands up, shoving the last of his protein bar into his mouth in truly typical ravenous teenager style. “I think I’ll call him,” Peter decides, “I mean, he’ll probably be busy on Friday anyway, but I thought I’d ask you first.”

“You do that,” May waves him from the room and looks back down at the pile of still unopened bills sitting in front of her. She waits until she hears the door to Peter’s door click shut before she lets her face fall at the sight of them. 

* * *

A small part of May has to admit that she’s surprised. She’s not even sure if she had expected Tony to agree to come tonight at all, but Peter had emerged from his room for dinner a couple of days ago, announcing that Mister Stark had agreed and would be joining them at the tiny Thai restaurant down the street with a barely contained grin on his face. 

Ever since then, she’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Maybe for Tony to try and take-over, she’s seen plenty of his galas and parties he’s thrown plastered all over the front of the newsstands, after all. Maybe for him to just protest having to be seen out for dinner in Queens of all places and to try and switch out the reservation for one of the fancier restaurants in SoHo that they would _ never _ be able to afford. Maybe for him to show up with an extravagantly flashy present to outshine the Lego set and new pair of Nikes that she’s been scraping her leftover cash together for since Christmas. 

But Tony Stark does none of these things. 

On the night of Peter’s sixteenth birthday, he knocks on the door to their apartment and when May swings it open, she’s surprised to see that he looks relatively _ normal_. Well, at least a Tony Stark brand of normal, a worn pair of jeans and a blazer thrown over a shirt that May thinks might be a Rolling Stones tour t-shirt. For this, she silently adds five points to her estimations of the man.

She still fondly recalls the Rolling Stones as the first concert her and Ben went to together. 

The only sign of any flashiness or wealth at all is the bottle of Dom Pérignon in his hand, which he doesn’t mention until she’s given him a very tentative hug, because a handshake feels too formal for someone that her nephew spends so much time with, and pulled him into the apartment. 

They make small talk about the weather and the traffic, and Tony is just as quick, witty and charming as she remembers him being the first time he paid a visit to their apartment under the guise of the September Foundation grant. Eventually, he presses the bottle of champagne forward into her hands, albeit slightly bashfully and May wonders for the first time whether it’s not just her that feels_ totally _ out of her depth here. “Your baby only turns sixteen once. Plus, Pepper insisted it would be entirely rude of me to show up without a little something to help you celebrate as well,” he offers and May smiles. 

“Thank you, that’s really kind of you,” she says. She means it, but Tony just shrugs his shoulders.

As he does, a door is thrown open somewhere down the hallway and Peter appears in the room a few seconds later, casting his eyes around hurriedly until they land on Tony. He smiles.

“Mister Stark! I didn’t even hear the knock at the door,” Peter says, immediately crossing the room to go in for a hug. He’s a hugger so that doesn’t surprise May, but what does is that Tony doesn’t even look the slightest bit uncomfortable as she might have expected. Instead, he wraps his arms around her nephew’s shoulders, clapping him on the back to pull him closer. She raises her eyebrows very slightly to herself. That’s definitely new. 

“Happy birthday, kiddo. You feel old yet?” 

“No older than yesterday,” Peter admits, and Tony smiles fondly at him. 

“Well, sixteen _ is _ a big deal. You get to give May heart attacks with your driving now, that’s just rite of passage. God knows I still give people heart attacks with my driving and I’m _ well _ passed anyone classing me as a teenager,” Tony chuckles. Peter just shrugs. 

“May might have to wait a while for that. We don’t even have a car. Who needs to drive when you have the subway right beneath your feet, right?”

Tony nods in agreement, even though May highly doubts he’s ever even set foot in the subway in his entire life. She just feigns relief. “Thank goodness, I don’t need that sort of stress in my life,” she laughs. Deep down, really, she wishes that she could provide all that for Peter. Loads of kids don’t get their licences until later on in New York though, so this probably isn’t the most pressing way she’s letting him down. 

“Send him my way one weekend and I’m happy to get him behind the wheel,” Tony offers suddenly, and Peter’s head snaps up in surprise. 

“_Really_?”

“Yeah, of course, as long as your aunt doesn’t mind,” Tony says, glancing over at May as if to ask for permission. She nods in surprise. Peter will _ love _ that. 

“As long as you’re ready for it. His road rage will be something else, trust me. You should see how angsty he gets when tourists stand on the left side of the escalators in the subway and block everyone else trying to walk up,” May laughs.

Peter blushes. “_May_.” 

Tony just grins. “I’m sure I can work with that. Consider it part of your birthday present, kid. The rest of it’s waiting up at the compound by the way,” May assumes it must be Spider-Man related, and she doesn’t ask. “Well,” Tony continues, “apart from this.” He reaches into the pocket of his blazer and pulls out a small package. It’s very clearly been hand wrapped.

“You didn’t have to, Mister Stark,” Peter says, but he’s smiling down at the wrapped present as he digs his fingers into the messily scotch-taped red paper. He pulls out a plain white box and pries it open. Inside is a small red snow globe, like one of the ones you might find at a street vendor selling tacky caps and I Heart NY t-shirts. There are some slightly shoddily painted skyscrapers on the inside of the globe, and as May squints to see it from where she’s standing, she spots a tiny Spider-Man figure hanging off the side of one of the buildings. May didn’t think Peter’s smile could get any bigger, but it has. 

“This is so _ cool_,” he says, “I didn’t even know I had merch.” 

‘It’s nothing really,” Tony says, “I just saw it and figured you might like it.” That's an understatement. Peter clearly loves it. Even so, although it might be selfish, May appreciates that she doesn’t feel upstaged by the gift. It’s small, simple and thoughtful. She has never once associated those words with Tony Stark in her entire life.

There’s a first time for everything, apparently.

* * *

They finally leave the apartment ten minutes later, once Peter has finally pulled his new pair of Nikes onto his feet and relayed the text from Ned to say that his mom has just dropped him off outside. 

The restaurant is only a two-minute walk away, and May spends almost the entirety of that time stifling laughs as Ned attempts to pick his jaw up from the ground, so very clearly starstruck. If Tony has noticed though, he doesn’t let on, just continues to make conversation about the science classes Ned is taking with Peter at school and the projects that he’s been working on to practice for Bloomberg CodeCon. Peter ends up answering half of the questions for him anyway.

May worries again when they all traipse into the restaurant and are shown to their small table in the corner. She wishes she could just relax, but she has to admit that she doesn’t exactly know the full extent of Peter and Tony’s bond or more specifically, exactly how much Tony might be willing to put up with tonight. She’s worried that at any moment he will decide that this has all been far too "common", nowhere near grand enough for a person of his stature, and that he's out. 

He doesn’t though.

He sits down at the table without any word of complaint, Peter’s arms very much in his personal space as he gesticulates along to a story he’s telling Ned in a hushed voice about a car robbery he stopped last night.

He doesn’t complain when May’s elbows bump against his in the cramped space, nor when Ned reaches across the table for more Pad Thai and accidentally knocks satay sauce over the sleeve of his blazer, or even when Peter stabs him in the cheek with a chopstick in retaliation when Tony brings out a particularly embarrassing lab story about Peter getting stuck to one of his workbenches with his own webbing. May generally finds it easier to distance herself from most things Spider-Man related, but even she’s in peels of laughter over that one. Peter’s blushing again when Tony finishes the story, but Tony just brings his hand up to ruffle Peter’s curls gently in lieu of an apology.

May notes the way that Peter and Tony don’t particularly seem to have any aversions to the other being in their own personal space at _ all_, all muttered inside jokes, knocking shoulders and reaching across to steal food from the others' plate without caring to ask.

May thinks maybe she can let her guard down, especially when she and Tony argue over the bill for a brief second once they’ve all finished their food. She’s never pegged him as someone to stand down, ever, but as soon as he seems to understand how important it is for her to just be able to do this, to treat her nephew, at least for one night, he drops it and immediately steps back to let her handle it.

He offers to walk them home instead. This, May takes him up on. 

Ned’s parents pick him up again from outside Peter and May’s apartment and Tony walks the two of them up the stairs. The damn elevator is broken _ again_. It's the second time so far this month. 

Tony hugs May to thank her for dinner and for letting him come along. Their hug feels far warmer than it did at the beginning of the night. She leaves Peter and Tony alone, slipping into the kitchen to pop open the bottle of Dom Pérignon. She pours the champagne into a chipped glass, leaning idly up against the kitchen counter to sip at it and pretend she isn’t eavesdropping.

“Happy birthday again, kid.”

“Thanks for coming Mister Stark. And thank you for the snow globe, I loved it,” Peter says. His voice sounds so open and genuine. May’s lips tug up into a small smile around her glass. 

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Come up to the compound this weekend and we’ll see about trailing the rest of your birthday present on the training course. Maybe even slip in a lap or two around the grounds in one of the cars,” Tony offers. 

May can almost see the grin on Peter’s face when he replies, "that would seriously be _ so _ cool.” 

“It’s a plan. I’ll text you.”

“Okay, yeah, awesome. Night, Mister Stark.”

“Night, Pete.” 

May hears the door click shut not long after that, presumably after Tony is finally out of sight, and Peter comes into the kitchen smiling to himself. May decides right there on the spot that it doesn’t matter in the slightest that she's had her reservations about Tony Stark. She was worried that he might intimidate her kid, might use his hero-worship for his own personal gain to have him cleaning up the lab or something, but Peter is the exact opposite of intimidated around him. She can’t remember seeing him this relaxed and comfortable with an adult male figure in a _ long _ time. 

She thinks that this is probably meant to hurt, that she feels so perplexed by such a big part of his life, but instead she just feels relief. Someone else is looking out for Peter in ways that she can’t.

Maybe for the first time since Ben, she doesn’t have to do this alone. 


	3. a nightmare

“You really have to be more careful with these,” Tony mutters around the screwdriver in his mouth. It’s nearly one in the morning and he’s kneeling next to where Rhodey is sitting in the middle of the lab, frowning into the mess of wires of his leg braces. 

Rhodey’s on a rare break from the Air Force, and while Tony is clearly less than pleased that his last few flights in the War Machine suit have managed to botch all his clever craft and hard work, Rhodey’s sure he doesn’t actually mind all that much. It’s good to be back, even if only for a few days. Besides, his best friend has always needed something to do with his hands. 

“I honestly don’t know how you’ve messed them up _ this _ much since I last saw you. Clearly you just need to come back and visit me more,” Tony says, resuming his half-hearted moaning as he digs his pliers in to unravel a red wire that’s become disconnected. Rhodey jerks back slightly as a shiver of electricity that runs through him. Tony rolls his eyes. 

Rhodey falls into silence at this as Tony continues to work. Tony _ knows _that the first place he heads on a break from the Air Force, after visiting his Ma, is to Tony, wherever that may be. He can’t help but feel a bit guilty though, knowing that Tony spends quite a large amount of time by himself in the labs nowadays. 

He’s in the middle of wondering how many of his duties he could potentially get transferred to New York, especially considering he isn’t that much use in active combat anymore with his legs and all, when he picks up the sound of someone pressing a code into the keypad on the other side of the lab door. Rhodey is immediately on high alert. He spins around hurriedly, eyes locked on the door and posture tight but Tony just reprimands him, “stay _ still_, will you? Jesus.” 

“There’s someone at the door, Tony,” Rhodey hisses, but Tony doesn’t even react in the slightest. 

“I can hear that,” he responds distractedly, now trying to screw one of the brace plates back over the exposed wiring. For exactly a split second Rhodey is confused as to why Tony is so calm when someone is making their way into his lab at one am, _ especially _ when this part of the compound is meant to be completely empty apart from the two of them. But then he remembers Tony mentioning something about the Spider-Man kid, Peter, staying for the weekend - something about his Aunt being out of town, and a _ driving lesson_, of all things? - and his shoulders relax a fraction. 

“It’ll just be Pete,” Tony says, confirming his thoughts. “He wanders when he can’t sleep.”

Sure enough, the door is pulled open to reveal a bleary-eyed and drowsy looking Peter, brown hair tousled with sleep. He blinks a few times, taking the scene in front of him and when his gaze falls onto Rhodey he startles back very slightly. He clearly hadn’t expected anyone apart from Tony to be down here, and Rhodey wonders how exactly he knew that he would find him down here in the first place. He could have asked F.R.I.D.AY, sure, but then Rhodey’s sure the AI would have notified them that Peter was heading their way. 

“Hey, kiddo. Can’t sleep?” Tony asks, still not taking his eyes off his work in front of him. This must be a regular occurrence. Tony doesn’t seem at all fazed by the presence of a sixteen-year-old in his lab at one in the morning. 

“No, uh, I-I slept, just well, y’know. I woke up again,” Peter trails off, stumbling over his words. It could easily be passed off as fatigue but Rhodey’s spent far too much time with Tony to be convinced that that’s the most likely story.

He studies the kid more closely, and takes in the way he huddles into his slightly threadbare NYSCI museum t-shirt, the way his hands shake almost imperceptibly and the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead that catches in the harsh overhead lighting of the lab.

A nightmare then. 

Tony seems to have come to the same conclusion based off Peter’s words alone because his head finally shoots up from his work to set his gaze on Peter. Peter clearly wonders whether this means that he’s done the wrong thing, because he blunders on nervously, “um, I’m really sorry for interrupting. Nice to see you again, Mister Colonel Rhodes, Sir.”

“It’s just Rhodey, kid, really-”

“Nightmare?” Tony interrupts. He’s on his feet, screwdriver abandoned on the floor along with the remaining brace plates that he’s yet to screw on. Rhodey isn’t going anywhere then. “Why didn’t F.R.I.D.A.Y tell me?” he asks, and honestly, that’s a whole other thing for Rhodey to unpack right there. 

“It wasn’t that bad, honest - I just didn’t want to be alone, I guess,” Peter admits, shifting on his feet until Tony is standing right in front of him, gathering the kid into his arms without any reservations. From where he’s sitting, he can see Peter’s arms reach out to wrap around Tony’s waist in return.

Rhodey feels a little bit like he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t be. 

“That’s understandable,” Tony says in a hushed tone. Rhodey isn’t sure he’s ever heard his voice take on a tone like that, so deliberately soothing. Tony is usually so abrupt, his tone full of harsh edges, bite and snark. But now? He’s quiet, calm. “What do you wanna do, buddy? If you wanna talk about it, Rhodey will be more than happy to hang out down here for a bit while we go back up to the apartment and you can crawl back into bed. It’s getting a bit chilly down here anyway, so I could use the trip to grab a sweatshirt from my room while we’re there.”

_ The _ apartment? As in Peter has a room in Tony’s apartment, rather than his own quarters? 

Peter hesitates for a moment. “I, uh, I don’t really feel like going back to sleep, if that’s okay? Unless you really did need to get a hoodie, but you probably just said that to make me feel better, right?”

So Peter can see right through Tony too. Got it. Tony smiles sheepishly. “You got me there, kid.”

“I can just go watch a movie, I won’t bother you guys anymore. I really am sorry for barging in, I just forgot Mister Rhodes was going to be here and I couldn’t call May because she’ll be asleep, and-”

“You’re not barging in anywhere. You’re always welcome, kid, you know that,” Tony cuts him off gently, wrapping an arm around him and leading him past Rhodey over to the couch in the corner that has clearly seen better days, the oil stains and singes on the edge of the cushions a testament to that. 

“Sit tight for a few minutes while I finish off making sure Rhodey can walk properly like the generous man I am,” Tony’s eyes flash with something unreadable as he says this, and Rhodey isn’t dumb. He knows Tony still struggles to deal with the fact that he couldn’t catch him that day in Germany. But no sooner than the emotion had appeared, it's gone and Tony continues. “Once I’m done, Rhodey and I were planning on going upstairs and settling down in front of a movie or something, you want in?”

They hadn’t been planning on that at all, but it sounds like a perfectly inviting idea to him right now, so he nods his head in agreement when Peter glances at him over Tony’s shoulder, as if to check that Tony wasn’t lying. Peter nods in contentment then, curling up into the arm of the couch as Tony brushes a hand over his shoulder, squeezing briefly before returning to his spot next to Rhodey. 

Tony keeps talking though, not the smack he had been throwing around with Rhodey previously, but in that quiet voice. Rhodey keeps having to stop himself from doing a double-take every time that it comes out of his friend’s mouth. “What movie are we thinking for tonight, huh Platypus?” Tony asks as he picks his screwdriver back up. It’s absent and honestly, unnecessary conversation. They could easily have F.R.I.D.A.Y recommend something.

Rhodey knows why Tony’s doing it though, to give Peter, who’s clearly still quite visibly shaken up, something to latch onto. So he plays along. 

“Top Gun?” 

“Nah, we watched that last time you were here, remember? See, _this_ is why you need to come back more often. It’s been so long that you’re already losing track of how far through the eighties we’ve gotten with our action blockbusters.” 

Rhodey secretly thinks that maybe as much as Tony moans about it, he doesn’t actually need him here as much as he had previously thought. Peter seems like a fairly constant presence in his life, if everything Rhodey’s picked up during the last ten minutes alone are anything to go by. 

“Okay, okay, sorry. Lethal Weapon, then? I’m almost positive that we haven’t crossed that one off yet.”

Tony thinks over the suggestion. “No, you’re right, we haven’t. Okay, Lethal Weapon, good choice. One of the first movies we saw together in the theatres back in college, remember that?”

Rhodey nods. Spring of 1987. Of course he does. 

Tony turns to glance over his shoulder at Peter, taking his eyes off the screw he’s twisting into place. “Ever seen Lethal Weapon, Pete?” Peter shakes his head. “A bit before your time probably. You’ll love it,” Tony promises. Rhodey thinks he would probably have promised him that no matter movie they ended up choosing. 

They carry on like this for about ten minutes as Tony finishes off his work, every so often speaking up with somewhat unnecessary comments that seem to be calming Peter down if his body language is anything to go by. He’s gone from curled into a tight ball on the edge of the sofa with his knees to his chest to stretched out across almost the entire thing, his head pillowed on his arms as he watches Tony work with tired eyes. 

Even so, when both Tony and Rhodey stand to test that the braces are working the way that they’re meant to, Peter is on his feet instantly as well, as if he’s afraid they’ll forget he’s there and leave the lab without him. He follows Tony closely up the stairs from the lab into the common area, but hesitates and removes himself slightly as Tony takes a seat at one end of the couch. 

Peter looks unsure, glancing over to where Rhodey is making himself comfortable, before choosing to sit down a small distance away from Tony. Tony frowns at this, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just lifts one of his arms up and places it on the back of the couch. His eyes flicker sideways towards Peter in question. It’s a silent invitation, Rhodey realises at the same time Peter seems to, relief flooding his features as he scoots over to press himself into Tony’s side. 

“F.R.I? Play Lethal Weapon, will you?” Tony calls up to the ceiling once the three of them are settled. The TV comes to life, casting a fluorescent glow across the dark room. 

Peter spends the first half an hour of the film blinking blearily at the screen before eventually his eyes start to re-open less and less. It’s obvious that he’s drifting off, but Tony just remains entirely nonplussed about the entire thing, eyes trained steadily on the movie as he lets the kid burrow into him. Tony’s thumb is moving in slow strokes up and down Peter’s bare upper arm, and remains doing so for the entire remainder of the film. 

Rhodey waits until the film’s winding down from the final climax to speak up, even though he and Tony have seen Lethal Weapon so many times at this point that actually sitting through the whole movie from start to finish feels like a mere formality. 

“Tones?”

Tony peers up before nodding his head briefly towards Peter, as if Rhodey might_ not _ have noticed that he’s asleep and literally using Tony as a pillow. “Yeah, I can see that,” Rhodey says, his voice hushed, even though he’s positive that Peter is probably out like a light. He looked exhausted before. “He’s _ asleep _ on you Tony. What the hell have I missed?”

Tony has the audacity to look confused. “What do you mean? I told you he was coming to stay this weekend.” 

“Yeah, I know. But last I checked the kid was Spider-Man, just masquerading as your intern, and now he’s _ cuddling _ with you on the couch. Do you do this with all your new recruits?”

Tony just shrugs. Doesn’t look at all bothered by Rhodey’s observations. “He doesn’t have much family left. I’m just doing what I can, where I can. That’s all.” 

Peter whines and twists in his sleep at this very moment, as if in reaction to Tony’s statement. Tony runs a hand down his arm, shushing the kid as he settles and turns his head so it’s tucked against Tony’s collarbone. 

Tony shoots Rhodey a wry smile at this, but it’s still soft. Everything seems to be, when it comes to Peter. “I guess it looks like I’m knocking out here, then. I had your room made up earlier so everything’s all good to go for you. Thanks by the way, for tonight. Sorry the plans changed a little bit.” He stares fondly down towards Peter for a second as he says this, as if he is actually very much _ not sorry _ at how things turned out. 

Honestly, neither is Rhodey. He still doesn’t know exactly what’s changed since he last left for duty, or what he’s missed, but what he does know is that he’s damn grateful for Peter Parker and the undeniable way he seems to be able to make Tony _ relax_. 

Rhodey gets up off the couch, stretching out his legs. They feel so much better now that Tony’s fixed them up. Tony visibly admires his handiwork from his spot on the couch. 

“Night Tones,” Rhodey calls quietly on his way out, “look after him.”

He thinks he hears Tony murmur, “I’m trying,” but it’s so quiet that he figures it’s none of his business, so he turns to leave the room to retreat to his own quarters, leaving Peter in the apparently very capable hands of his best friend. 


	4. a panic attack

As far as Mondays go, MJ’s having a pretty good one so far. She managed to avoid her dad’s new girlfriend when she slipped out of the house early this morning, had time to pick up a coffee before her train arrived, her final art project was approved during first-period _and_ she got top marks for her ‘Execution Methods During the French Revolution' European history essay.

But now, she’s sitting in geography.

And honestly, geography really just _ isn’t _ MJ’s favourite subject. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice in the first place, all the other electives had filled up pretty quickly and she’d subsequently missed out on a spot in the world literature class, so here she is.

The atmosphere inside the classroom is restless as it is. Rain is pounding relentlessly against the windows and everyone knows that any sort of abnormal weather is a recipe for _ disaster _ when trying to keep students focused. However, it quickly goes even further south when Mrs Bryant finally stands up from her desk, apparently having given up on fixing the room with her icy gaze and waiting for her students to eventually divert their attention to her without intervention (_as if that would ever happen_), and announces that they’re spending this period watching a documentary. More specifically, a documentary on landslides to round out their natural disaster unit. 

This is the point where, in _any_ other class in the entirety of Midtown, there might be whoops, claps or high-fives. But Mrs Bryant is renowned school-wide for her monotonous and tedious documentaries, so in this particular eleventh-grade third-period geography class, there is none of that. A few people dare to groan slightly. Everyone else rolls their eyes. One guy at the back of the class just straight up cushions his head in his arms on his desk as if he’s aiming to catch up on some sleep.

That doesn’t sound like a half-bad idea at all to MJ right now. It’s nights like last night that she _ really _ wishes her dad had a bigger apartment, or at the very least that her room wasn’t right next to his. Some things you can’t unhear. 

Even so, she isn’t sure if it’s worth the risk. Mrs Bryant is someone that most people vigilantly attempt to stay on the right side of, especially if they enjoy their assignments _ not _ being knocked down a few points just because she feels like it. MJ reaches under her seat to rifle through her bag as inconspicuously as she can. She’s positive she stowed her Ann Rule book somewhere in there before she left the house this morning.

Sure enough, she manages to pull it from her bag without drawing too much attention to herself as Mrs Bryant plugs her computer into the projector, and sets it in her lap underneath the desk, settling in to read. 

Just as the narrator is beginning to drone on, Ned and Peter rush into the darkened classroom, uttering hurried apologies under their breath as they slip quickly into the empty seats beside her.

They catch their breath for a second, Ned high-fiving Peter underneath the table as if they _ weren’t _ nearly ten minutes late for class. When MJ doesn’t look up from her book to greet them, Ned leans over from his spot beside her to nudge her in the side. 

“Warren the freakin’ slave-driver kept us behind again in chem. Did we miss much? What are we watching?” he says. He’s obviously attempting to be quiet but Mrs Bryant throws them a scathing look anyway. 

“Some shit about landslides,” MJ hisses back, willing him to stop drawing attention to them. Thankfully, Ned only shrugs and settles back into his seat. He looks like he attempts to keep his eyes on the screen for all of about two minutes before he loses attention and takes up doodling on his hand instead. Peter, bless him, is actually watching it and from MJ is sitting, it looks like he’s paying attention. Out of all three of them, he might be the one most worried about getting on Mrs Bryant’s bad side. MJ would consider ribbing him about it, but she presumes that it’s probably something to do with him being constantly petrified of his grades falling and losing his scholarship, so she doesn’t. 

The documentary drones on, and on, and _on_. It’s become so boring MJ is convinced Peter might be the only person in the room with his eyes even on the screen. It’s genuinely sent the guy at the back of the room properly to sleep. She heard him snore a few minutes ago. She’s jealous, almost contemplates whether putting her own head down, even if only for fifteen minutes or so, is worth the risk, when the documentary does something that MJ isn’t expecting, not in the slightest.

It gets _ interesting_.

Her eyes are drawn to the screen as the scenes suddenly turn so equally intimidating, fascinating and horrific that it’s right up MJ’s alley and she’s leaning forward ever so slightly, book forgotten in her lap. 

In MJ’s opinion, there aren’t many things left on the planet that are entirely out of the control of humans. But this landslide is. The narrator announces that it took place somewhere in Bolivia. It’s other-worldly and _ incredible, _a force of nature so capable of destruction. MJ is rapt as she watches the masses of earth, rock and debris piling on top of even the tallest looking structures, reducing houses to collapse inwards into themselves, clouds of dust rising in their place. 

In a stark contrast, as MJ seems to be drawn into the screen, she notes absentmindedly that Peter seems to be doing the absolute opposite. He’s no longer looking towards the front of the class, instead, his eyes are trained steadily on his desk. She doesn’t pay any more mind to this until she notices Ned turn his back to her, his attention suddenly focused solely on Peter. 

She’s intrigued, slightly more so than she is by what’s still playing across the screen, so she cranes her neck to get a better view of Peter where he’s sitting on the other side of Ned.

MJ blinks once, then twice. She’s not entirely sure if she’s seeing right.

Peter’s _ hyperventilating_.

His hands are clutching the sides of the desk, knuckles turning white, his face drained of colour. MJ is immediately concerned, and clearly so is Ned, who’s trying to talk to Peter, get through to him somehow, but he’s not responding, probably not even hearing. It’s like he’s not in the room anymore. 

MJ pokes Ned on the shoulder. “What’s wrong with him?” 

“I don’t _ know_,” Ned mumbles back, sounding a little bit like he’s at a loss, “a panic attack I think.” Peter continues to struggle to breathe. 

_ What set him off? _

MJ scans around the room in an attempt to find answers. There’s nothing out of the ordinary. Flash isn’t even in this class with them. 

It takes a turn for the worse when Peter begins scrabbling at his chest as if he’s trying to desperately claw open his lungs. Ned takes the lead immediately. As he stands up, all the eyes in the room snap to them. Mrs Bryant’s narrowed eyes land on Peter. “What’s going on?” she questions, but neither of them answer her. Instead, Ned helps Peter up from his desk. The shakes that course through his entire body are even more prominent once he’s on his feet. 

“I didn’t realise this would cause such a, uh,” Mrs Bryant falters for just a second before she continues, “an adverse reaction.” 

MJ ignores her, watches Ned scramble for an excuse as she slings Peter’s worn backpack over her shoulder. ‘His, um, his great-uncle died in a landslide and he’s found it hard since then.” MJ might have laughed if the situation was any different. It’s clearly so far from the truth that she isn’t even sure why Ned bothered at all, but neither of them wait for an answer or to be excused. Ned lets Peter lean against him slightly, his legs shaky beneath him, as he shoulders the door open and leads them out into the empty hallway. 

The sound of land slipping and buildings crumbling spills out behind them until MJ pushes the door shut behind them and the entire space goes blissfully silent. Peter shudders out what might have been a shaky sigh of relief, but he’s clearly still not pulling in enough oxygen. Ned falters for only a second, before making for the boys’ bathrooms at the end of the hall. MJ follows without reservation or complaint. 

Ned doesn’t end up with much of a choice but to prop Peter up against the dirty bathroom tile, because as soon as they're inside, Peter’s legs are giving way from underneath him and he’s sliding down towards the floor anyway. MJ’s never seen his eyes like this, so glassy and unseeing. She decides immediately that she hates it. 

“C-can’t, don’t wanna be trapped, can’t do it again,” Peter stammers out around gasped breaths. Ned lurches forward quickly in an attempt to calm and comfort. MJ isn’t convinced it’s working. 

“You’re not trapped Peter, I promise you.”

“N-Ned?” 

“Yeah, I’m here. MJ and I are both here, it’s alright Peter. Think you can try and breathe for us?” he asks. His voice has a slightly frenzied tone to it now, and the only response he gets is a strangled groan. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and apparently, this counts very much as a desperate time because Ned jerks around towards where MJ is sitting with Peter’s backpack, observing silently. He looks like he’s just remembered something incredibly important.

“_MJ_! MJ, I need you to get Peter’s phone out of his bag. It should be in the front pocket of his bag I think, yeah, yeah it will be, and then can you call Mister Stark to tell him what’s going on? I think he should get down here.”

MJ’s confused. She’s aware that Peter has an internship with Stark Industries. Everyone at school is, but whether most of them believe him or not is a different story. But calling Tony Stark to Midtown Tech to calm his intern down from a panic attack? 

Maybe Ned isn’t thinking straight either. The two of them have to learn at some point that superheroes can’t fix _ everything_. 

“Stark? Like Tony Stark? As in his boss? Are you sure you don’t want me to call May?”

Peter whines at this and struggles to suck in another breath.

That’s a no, then. 

Ned shakes his head. “I think Mister Stark will know what to do,” Ned says, trying to keep calm. MJ is as well. She isn’t used to feeling this far out of her depth and she doesn’t like it one bit, so she does the one useful thing it seems like she can do, and fishes Peter’s phone out of his backpack to ring Tony Stark, of all people. 

She thumbs through his contacts to find Stark’s number and holds the phone up to her ear as it rings. 

She waits a minute, and just as MJ thinks it’s about to ring out and go to voicemail, the voice of Tony Stark picks up. MJ can’t help the jolt of surprise that hits her, even though she knew exactly what she was in for. Still, apparently, Peter doesn’t even have to go through an assistant or anything?

_ What sort of reality are we living in? _

“Kid? Aren’t you meant to be in class or something right now?” 

“Hey,” MJ says shortly, “I’m with-”

“Who the hell is this?” Stark interrupts testily. MJ rolls her eyes. 

“I’m _ getting _ there, if you’ll let me. Michelle Jones, I’m with Peter at the moment, and he’s not breathing properly, we think he’s having a panic attack. Our friend Ned’s here as well-”

“I know him,” Tony interjects. Huh. 

“Okay, so he’s the one who thought you might know what to do. The guidance counsellors at school are _ useless _so they wouldn’t know what to do, and I still think we should be calling May but Ned insisted we try you, so here I am.”

“May’s at work, you did the right thing,” Stark assures, as if she needs _ reassuring_. There’s rustling in the background indicating that he’s on the move. “Do you know what set it off?” 

“We were in geography, watching some documentary thing about landslides. Nothing out of the ordinary, I guess.” MJ keeps an eye on Ned and Peter as she answers. Peter’s still shaking uncontrollably, but Ned talking to him seems to be helping slightly. He’s quit clawing at his chest.

“Landslides?” Tony repeats, latching onto the one detail. 

“Yeah, y’know, destruction, houses collapsing, the whole deal.” 

Tony makes a noise of understanding then, “ah, yeah, that’ll do it for him.” He doesn’t sound particularly surprised. “Keep him calm, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

* * *

Sure enough, after around twelve minutes of Ned continuing to try and talk to Peter to keep him grounded, Tony Stark walks into the bathroom. Ned doesn’t look at all surprised that Tony has somehow managed to pinpoint their exact location. MJ is certain that they aren’t being particularly loud, and begins to think back as to whether she mentioned their location to him while they were on the phone as he makes his way over to Peter. She doesn’t think so. She also doesn’t particularly like the idea of being tracked but decides that she’ll make an exception for this one time.

Ned moves aside to make space for Tony.

Peter has calmed slightly since MJ first got off the phone with Stark. His eyes are still glazed over and his hands shake with the residual tremors of his adrenaline, but overall he just looks wrecked and _ exhausted_. 

Tony kneels down in front of him as soon as he gets close enough. He takes one of Peter’s hands in his own and reaches around to cup the back of Peter’s neck with the other. Based on everything MJ has ever read on Tony Stark, which admittedly has been largely on anti-war and military weapon lobby sites, she doesn’t think she would have _ever_ pinned him as the type of guy to willingly kneel in the middle of a grimy high school bathroom, used by hundreds of teenage boys daily, just to calm his sixteen-year-old intern down from a panic attack. 

But she’s seeing it with her own eyes so there’s no denying it. 

“Hey, buddy,” Tony murmurs and Peter turns his head to meet his gaze, looking as if it took all his energy out of him to do it. Tony seems to recognise this as well. “Look at you go, that’s it. I just need you to focus on taking deep breaths that's all, okay? I've got you, I'll handle everything else. As soon as you feel up to it, we’re gonna get out of here, find you a nice cozy place to have a lie down somewhere." 

Peter doesn’t respond. His eyes just flutter closed with a tiny sigh and MJ thinks she sees him squeeze Tony’s hand. 

They sit there for a few more minutes, MJ and Ned off to the side trying their best not to get in the way as Tony continues his quiet words. Eventually, Peter mumbles something to Tony. It’s too quiet for MJ to hear, but Tony just nods and proceeds to help Peter to his feet, keeping an arm wrapped firmly around him. He still looks slightly unsteady. Tony thanks the two of them for their help as they stand in a small group in the hallway outside the bathroom. He reaches out to take Peter’s backpack from MJ as well. She’d forgotten that she was even holding it, and passes it over quickly. 

Her and Ned stand side by side for a few seconds in dumb silence, watching as Tony guides Peter away from them, down the hall and past their geography class.

“Was that weird or what?” MJ asks, turning to Ned as soon as they’ve disappeared into the front office. Ned shrugs. He doesn’t look nearly as overwhelmed or confused as MJ thinks he should. 

“He’ll be fine. Mister Stark will look after him.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was saying is _ weird_,” MJ presses.

Ned obviously knows something that she doesn’t, but he just shrugs again. “Do you think if we get back to class quick enough we’ll be able to see the end of the documentary?”

MJ clearly isn’t going to get any more information so she concedes. “Yeah, probably.” 

They make it just in time for the last ten minutes, but MJ just stares at the empty spot behind the desk that Peter had been filling only half an hour ago as if it will conjure the answers she’s looking for into thin air. 

MJ still isn’t sure she likes Tony Stark all that much, but maybe superheroes _ can _ fix more than she gives them credit for.


	5. a night in the medbay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter got away from me and just turned into nearly 4k words of steve trying to look after peter when tony can't and honestly i'm not even mad about it. enjoy x

Steve’s taking out the last alien on his end of the street, trying to move it away from the entrance to an apartment block before he slams it into the ground.

They’re _ so _ nearly there, so close to being able to go home for the evening. It actually hasn’t taken them as long as he thought it might, to get this particular extraterrestrial threat under control. All of them are particularly motivated by Bruce’s promise to serve everyone up a chicken curry when they got back to the compound when he announced he was sitting this one out earlier today.

There’s nothing that sounds more appealing to him right now.

When he has the chance, he pulls his eyes away from the creature in front of him to check on his team above. The flurry of activity in the skies that had been there half an hour previously has dwindled down, but Peter is still up there. He’s swinging from building to building, webbing the last of the airborne grotesque grey aliens to the walls as best he can as he goes. But he’s distracted, Steve can tell. The eyes of his mask are wide in amazement as he watches Natasha fight off three at the same time with her bare hands directly below him.

Peter shoots out a web without looking up. It hits the building to his left with practiced ease, but even from the ground, Steve notices that it looks slightly more rigid than it should. Dread pools in the bottom of his stomach and he can tell what’s going to happen exactly two seconds before it does. Peter clearly notices as well, judging by the way his head snaps up in a panicked glance.

Tony had warned everyone else this morning that Peter was taking new webs out into the field today that they haven’t tested anywhere outside of the training rooms. He wanted everyone to keep an eye on the younger boy just in case. Tony appears to have a tendency to worry about things like that, even though Steve’s always sure that Peter is more than capable of holding his own, despite his age.

However, _this_ would appear to be one of the situations that Tony had worried about. One that might warrant Peter needing eyes on him, a bit of extra back-up. It’s too late though. Peter’s name is just forming in Steve’s mouth but ultimately it’s useless. Peter meets his gaze for a split-second before his webbing _ snaps _ and he’s spiralling, falling through the air in a flash of red and blue, heading straight for the ground. 

Steve flinches back _hard_ as he witnesses the impact. He knows he needs to turn his full attention back to the alien in front of him before he can make his way over to Peter, so he brings his hand up to turn up his comms with one hand. 

“Spider-Man? Come in, Spider-Man, report. Are you okay?” He thinks there might be a slightly muffled groan on the other end, amongst the chaos of everyone else. The sound is reassuring. He isn't out cold. He wasn’t _that_ high up but he’s sure he might end up with a few stitches or bones needing to be set later. He thanks his lucky stars that most of the aliens are just corpses now and there are none in the nearby vicinity to pounce on Peter when he’s at his most vulnerable. Even so, Tony won’t be happy. 

“Y-Yeah Captain, just a bit of a bump, I-I’m good. I’ll be back up in a sec, promise.” He sounds a bit shaky but Steve doesn’t question him on it. As expected, Tony seems to take an issue with it though, his voice suddenly ringing through the comms. 

“Just hang out there for a minute okay, kid? I’ll come grab you.”

“I’m fine, _ seriously_,” Peter grumbles, but Tony doesn’t answer. Steve loses some of the tension he’d been holding on to now that he knows someone has the youngest member of their team under control. 

Steve swings forward, decapitating the creature with his shield before turning away to focus his attention on Clint, who’s got the very last swarm of the things descending on his tail. Thank _ god_. Once they take these things out they can go home. Steve vaguely registers the blur of the Iron Man suit in his peripheral vision as Tony shoots past.

These events happening in parallel might have all been fine if Clint didn’t turn to desperately launch an exploding arrow towards the group behind him. The swarm is rocked by the explosion, thrown violently apart by the force. They fall to the ground in quick succession but as they do, the tail of one of them flails to the side, slamming into Tony’s suit and throwing him off course. 

Four things happen at once. Steve’s heart leaps into his throat. Clint curses loudly. A scream rips from Peter through the comms, alarmed and desperate. _ Tony slams into the concrete_. 

All the aliens are down. But so is Tony.

Steve rushes forward, his heart beating against his ribcage because he’d _ heard _ the sickening crack of metal hitting the pavement, seen the way the suit went lifeless once it collided with the ground. 

Peter beats him there, because of course. He manages to look terrified even underneath his mask, his eyes blown wide as he throws himself to his knees before Tony to grip his shoulders. “Mister Stark?” He doesn’t get an answer. The lights in the suit are out. “M-Mister Stark? Hey, h-hey, are you okay?” 

“Captain,” Peter says desperately when Steve finally stops in front of them. “Cap-, _ S-Steve_, please, he’s not m-moving.” 

“The medics are on their way, we’ll get him to the compound okay? He’ll be okay I-” Steve cuts off as Peter leans forward to begin to tug at the plates of the suit in a frenzy of need, the _ need _ to see Tony alive and staring back up at him. “Hey, no, none of that. We can’t risk moving him without the medics here, he’ll just be unconscious Peter. We just need to wait a couple of minutes.” 

“I need to, what if he’s - he, no, he looks d-dead” Peter stutters, his whole body rocking forward towards Tony, shaking all over.

Steve spots Natasha leading the medics towards them from across the street and he steels himself to have to try and pull Peter away. “Look, here comes everyone now. They’ll take Tony to the MedBay and he’ll be as good as new,” Steve tries, but Peter just shakes his head inconsolably. 

It’s even worse when the medics finally surround them and Steve has to pull himself and Peter to their feet to get out of the way. “Let me _ go_,” Peter growls as Steve hauls him away, trying his best to be gentle but knowing that the sooner the medics can get Tony out of here and into the MedBay to be examined the better. 

“I need to go with him, let me go with him, please!” Peter begs, his arms thrashing weakly in Steve’s grip, but Steve doesn’t let up. He can feel the rest of their team watching them with sad eyes. 

Peter goes limp in his hold when the medics move Tony from the middle of the decimated street. His resigned silence cuts Steve to his core. 

* * *

Peter was escorted down to the MedBay by a nurse when they got back, while the first thing Steve has to do when he gets back to the compound is deal with a debriefing, much to his chagrin. He insisted that he could handle everything on his own, and as soon as he’s finished assuring Fury that they’ve got it all under control and _ yes_, they did everything they could to minimise any damage to people or property, his first imperative once he’s seen Tony is to check on Peter and make sure that he’s okay. 

Luckily for him, he’s able to kill two birds with one stone. When he’s let into Tony’s hospital room, Peter is sitting by his bedside. 

After seeing how badly Peter reacted when Tony was first hurt, this shouldn’t surprise Steve as much as it does. Something about seeing Tony so close to a literal child (no matter how vehemently Peter will deny this fact - “I’m _ sixteen_, that is nowhere even _ close _ to a child”) will always throw him through a little bit of a loop. If you told Steve that the Tony Stark he first met would become so invested in a teenager, he wouldn’t have believed you.

Tony’s hooked up to a few machines, bruised and banged up in a way that doesn’t faze Steve too much because they’ve been doing this for long enough to know that sometimes, this sort of thing is inevitable.

It’s clearly still distressing Peter though, who’s pitched forward in his chair to clasp at the edge of the hospital bed, staring blankly at Tony’s still form. No one’s tried to look him over then, because he’s still in his slightly tattered Spider-Man suit, ripped in the shoulder from where he hit the pavement earlier, but someone has placed a blanket around his shoulders at least. It hangs limply over him, Peter either not bothering, or not aware enough, to keep it wrapped around him.

It’s such a contrast to Peter’s usual lively form, bright and boisterous, swinging around the city in his almost obnoxiously red suit. Now, he’s empty and pale. 

When a nurse bustles back into the room, Steve catches her arm as she passes, glancing questioningly between her and where Peter is sitting. “Why hasn’t someone checked him over? He took a pretty nasty fall as well, he probably needs stitches, at _ least_.”

The nurse just gives him a wan smile. “We tried about twenty minutes ago, Mister Rogers, but he refuses to even leave the bedside or let any of us touch him, let alone go down the hall to one of the examination rooms,” she admits and Steve’s brow furrows. They can't just _leave_ him here. Plus, Peter’s skin has taken on a deathly white pallor underneath the hospital lighting, and he knows from experience that blood sugar drops with a metabolism like theirs can be dangerous, especially after a battle like the one they’ve just faced. So he takes it into his own hands.

“Hey, Peter,” Steve starts gently, making his way over to the edge of Tony’s bed. Peter looks up at the movement and nods stiffly in acknowledgement. His gaze returns to Tony. “I really think we should get you checked over, is that okay with you? We’ll get you cleaned up, outta the suit and maybe you could come upstairs and have a snack quickly? I heard Bruce is still on for that chicken curry he promised us all earlier.” 

Peter doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look up this time, just grips where he’s holding the edge of the bed tighter, as if he’s afraid someone will forcibly try and remove him. 

“After Bruce’s time in Kolkata, his curry really is unmissable, I promise you,” he tries again.

More silence.

Steve sighs to himself.

This is the point where most of them would just leave Peter to Tony or vice versa, knowing that whatever confusing sort of kinship the two of them seem to have formed would be able to handle it. But Steve doesn’t have that option right now, so instead he turns to his status of the Captain. He feels a bit guilty about using his position of power over Peter to try and coerce him into something, but when that _ something _ is getting stitched up and fed, Steve figures it’s probably not the worst thing he could be doing.

“Peter,” he starts firmly, “I know this is difficult, but you can’t sit here all evening.” 

His stern tone of voice forces Peter to raise his eyes to meet his, but much to Steve’s surprise, he finds a glimmer of resistance in them. 

“My aunt thinks I’m staying the night.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. My bad. You are welcome to be back down here as soon as you’ve been checked over real quick, had a shower and eaten something substantial. You’re part of the team Peter, everyone else is upstairs getting ready for dinner-”

“Mister Stark isn’t,” he counters. Steve winces. 

“No, you’re right. He’s not. But Tony is going to be_ fine_, he will still be here when you get back. You need to come with me Peter, just for a little while, okay?”

Peter shifts slightly at this, moving as if he’s going to get up but at the last second he jerks back towards Tony. Horror flashes across his face, as if he can’t believe that he had even just thought about getting up and leaving the room. “_No_.”

“Peter-”

“No, no, no, if I leave, he’ll - he could, he might, I-I just can’t. I _ won’t_.” Peter lurches forward, so now instead of just gripping onto the edge of the bed, he’s got one of Tony’s limp hands clutched in both of his. They’re shaking, Steve notes. Either from the anxiety that’s radiating off him or the impending blood sugar crash he’s not sure. Both of which clearly need to be dealt with, but Steve is confused, and at a loss. 

He had assumed that once they got Tony back here and Peter could see that he was going to be okay, that he might calm slightly. There isn’t a logical reason presenting itself here to him, as to why Peter is so distressed when he’s been reassured countless times over that Tony will, one hundred percent and without a doubt, be totally _ fine. _

Still, Peter refuses to move. 

Steve is way out of his element here. He knows his way around a battlefield. He knows how to let his morals guide him. He knows how to be a leader. What he _doesn’t_ know, though, is how to care for a teenage spider-kid. Against all odds, that’s become Tony’s forte. He still can’t quite believe what he’s seeing sometimes, the way Tony is so open with his affection towards Peter. 

He needs to think, and fast. Now that he’s been in the room for a few minutes, he’s sure that there’s a patch on Peter’s shoulder that has slowly but surely been growing redder and redder than it should be. “What if we don’t leave the room?” he offers, “I’ll go get one of the nurses and they can just look you over in here?”

“They’ll try and get me to leave. They did before. I’m not stupid,” Peter mutters, the slight scowl on his face masking his worry for a second. 

“They won’t make you leave-” 

“They _ will_.”

They’re going around in circles like this. Steve’s thoughts jumble for a second before he clears them again rapidly. “Will you let me do it, then?” he asks, before clarifying “right here. You won’t even have to move.” 

Peter eyes him suspiciously. Steve doesn’t really blame him, he has just spent the last five minutes trying to convince him to leave the room, after all. “I can stay here?” he clarifies and Steve nods. 

“Of course,” He says, because as much as Tony and Peter confuse the hell out of him sometimes, he also knows that this is exactly what Tony would want. Peter taken care of. So he retrieves a first-aid kit from the nurses' station, feeling Peter’s eyes on his back as if he’s watching for any missteps, ready to retract his consent for Steve to look him over if he looks for one second like he’s going to try and remove Peter from Tony’s bedside. 

“Why don’t you take your suit off?” Steve prompts, unwrapping the blanket from Peter’s shoulders for him to drape over his lap so he's covered by more than his underwear. “I’ll bring you down some sweatpants when we’re done here,” he promises, and Peter just nods absentmindedly. Steve isn’t convinced he’s even listening to him more than he’s just obeying everything that sounds vaguely like an instruction while he keeps his eyes firmly glued to Tony. 

Steve works for almost twenty minutes before he’s finally satisfied that Peter isn’t going to bleed out in Tony’s hospital room. He’s had to staunch bleeding, pick gravel out of and stitch up at least five nasty looking cuts, and disinfect the entirety of Peter’s shoulder which he had grazed on impact. Peter barely flinches. Steve hopes he isn’t disassociating, and makes a point to ask Peter a question every few minutes or so just to make sure he’s still at least somewhat tethered to reality. 

He wishes Tony was awake right about now. Peter can’t seem to cope without him. 

* * *

Steve happens to be there when Tony does wake up. 

He’d had to leave eventually to go upstairs and freshen up himself and deal with his own tanking blood sugar issue. He’d made the nurse promise to keep a proper eye on Peter, as well as promising the boy himself that he would send someone down with some clothes as soon as he could. 

But as soon as he’s taken care of himself, and Bruce has pressed a Cool Blue Gatorade into his hands with instructions to make sure Peter drinks it all, he heads straight back down to check on Tony. He finds the man looking like he’s literally forcing his eyes open, refusing to let them close as they dart around the room frantically. Tony never has been one to do things by halves, but all things considered, he really _ shouldn’t _be awake.

But he is. And he’s talking.

“Peter, where’s - I need, where’s Peter?” His voice is raspy but Peter sits up straight all of a sudden, moving closer towards the bed far too quickly for someone with five new sets of stitches. 

“Mister Stark? I, It’s Peter, I-I’m right here,” he says, voice still wobbly as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing in front of him. Tentative relief lights up his eyes. 

“No, he was falling, he fell, w-webbing, my fault, is he okay? I need to know if he’s okay.”

Peter leans forward to grip Tony’s hand again. A tear slips out of the corner of his eye. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I _ p-promise_.”

The way Peter’s voice breaks on the last word finally has Tony coming fully back to himself, shifting his head to the side with a grimace as if it takes great effort, but as soon as he lays his eyes on Peter, sitting by his bed and mostly in one piece, his whole body relaxes against the hospital bed. “Peter,” he breathes and Peter just nods frantically in response.

“I’m here,” he confirms. 

“Hurt?” Tony asks. 

Peter shakes his head this time, “no, no, I’m totally good.” Steve doesn’t think that’s strictly true but he doesn’t question it. He just crosses the room instead to hand the Gatorade over to Peter, who accepts it unthinkingly. Tony’s eyes settle on him, but it takes him a few seconds to work out exactly what’s going on.

“Steve? What’re you doing?”

“Just getting Peter something to drink,” he assures, but he’s not convinced it’s even going to be drunk. He should insist, but Peter has his face settled on the hospital bed now, his forehead pressed up against where Tony’s thigh is under the sheets and he looks so peaceful for the first time since they left the compound earlier in the day that Steve doesn’t have the heart. It will be there when he wakes up. 

Tony drops a gentle hand on the top of Peter’s head and leans back against the pillows himself, content now that his first and only important order of business has been seen to and he’s had confirmation that Peter isn’t horrifically injured or dying. The nurse is back, fussing with Tony’s vitals but he waves her off with a lazy hand.

“What does a man have to do to get a bit of peace and quiet in here? I promise that I’ll be a good patient, I won’t do anything dumb or rip anything off that I’m not meant to,” he gestures to the various wires that are hooked onto his arms and chest, “I just need you all out.” 

Steve supposes they aren’t really in a place to deny him this, so he reaches across to shake Peter awake gently but Tony glares at him. “Don’t touch the kid. He’s sleeping.” 

“But you said-”

“Not Peter," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "He stays with me. I meant the rest of you. Peter looks like he hasn’t slept in _weeks_ anyway, what have you lot been doing to him while I was out?" 

Steve doesn't know how to answer that question, doesn't know how to tell Tony just how unconsolable Peter had been, so instead he just remains silent. Tony continues, gesturing towards the door, “out, out, out. Peter doesn’t need all the noise.”

Privately, Steve thinks that it’s just Tony who doesn’t want anyone to see him this vulnerable and stripped open. Peter’s out cold now that he’s realised Tony is okay. You could lead a herd of elephants in there and he would be none the wiser.

He leaves anyway, shuts the door behind him to leave the two of them to comfort each other. 

* * *

He returns later in the evening with two bowls of leftover chicken curry on a tray. He really wasn't kidding when he said Bruce’s curry was the best, it's not fair for them to miss out. 

He shoulders the door open with his hands full, and is greeted with the sight of Peter - who has migrated from the chair next to the bed, to lying _ on _ the bed - and Tony, curled around each other. Peter’s arm is cast protectively over Tony’s chest as if even in sleep he’s afraid someone is going to try and rip him away.

Steve contemplates whether waking them up is worth it, but the bottle of Gatorade is empty and Peter is nowhere near as pale as he was before, so nothing is critical. He leaves them to it. When it comes down to it, he’s not sure he has the heart to wake them from the peaceful slumber that the both of them probably so desperately need. 

He leaves the food on the bedside table.


	6. a good day

The snap was a tragedy. No one needs reminding of that fact. The countless statues, memorials and public holidays do a pretty good job of making sure no one is able to forget.

But sometimes, Tony thinks people forget just how horrific it was when half of the population _returned_ from the snap. A bittersweet reunion as the world had to stretch itself thin to accommodate for billions of people who were wiped out five years ago. Those same people have then had to fight desperately to claw their way back to some sort of normalcy, to find their place in a world that had shifted to swallow up their place. People were starving. People were homeless. People were grieving for a world that didn’t exist anymore. People are _still_ grieving. 

But today. Tony finally feels like today is a good day.

Those have been few and far between as of late. Since the reversing of the snap, there have been whole lot of bad days in-between, worried silence, tense doctors visits, sleeping too much or _ not at all_. But today, maybe he can dare to hope that everything might be coming right with the world. 

The midday sun is burning bright against the blue of the sky, Pepper’s ankle is hooked around his where they’re stretched out on a picnic blanket and a light breeze blows across the lake.

The sound of chaos surrounds him.

But for the first time in a _ long _ time, it’s cheerful. After everything Tony and everyone else has been through, he’s firmly decided that cheerful chaos is the very best kind of chaos. No other kind of chaos allowed, ever. He forbids it.

Raucous laughter is coming from somewhere behind him, near _ his _ grill which he still can’t believe Pepper gave Steve and Bucky permission to touch. He’s not exactly in the right state to do any of it himself, but still. May just spilt her drink somewhere up near the porch where she’s sitting with Happy’s arm around her - a sight Tony isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to but pleases him infinitely all the same. Pepper has had to scold Rhodey more than once for nearly sending a baseball through the living room window. Best of all, he can hear Morgan squealing with joy and the sound of Peter’s laughter. 

Because that’s another reason that today is a good day. 

Peter’s here, and has been since the reversing of the snap. Not as a ghost haunting the room at the end of the hallway that Tony kept locked for years, gathering dust until the particularly dark nights when Tony would go inside to cry and scream, and then frantically dust and clean as if the room would ever have an inhabitant to fill it.

Now it does. They brought everyone back, though selfishly Tony knows that he did what he did for one reason and one reason alone: Peter.

He’s actually _ here_. 

Sure, he’s only here until May and Happy manage to find an apartment in the shrunken but suddenly hideously inflated New York housing market, but it’s just as much a favour for Tony as it is for May. Peter’s mere existence day after day at the house is slowly but surely healing Tony’s shot nerves and soothing the paranoia that every time he opens his eyes again Peter will be gone, snatched from him and carried away by the slightest gust of wind. It's only all okay because whenever Tony opens his eyes, the kid is never truly gone. He’s there in some way, shape or form, whether he’s literally pressed up against his side or it’s just the sight of his shoes scattered haphazardly next to his own, the four mugs on the coffee table leftover from a movie night rather than the usual three, unused scattered screws left in odd places from the swing he built to surprise Morgan last weekend. Tony takes whatever he can get.

His heart warms and he gets the sudden urge to lay his eyes on Peter. He’s been getting that particular urge a lot lately. Tony squints against the sun’s rays to make out Morgan and Peter. These days, it seems that wherever you find Peter, Morgan will never be far behind.

They’re both in their swimsuits in the lake, Morgan pressed against Peter’s back as he piggy-backs her in circles. Her tiny feet kick against the surface of the water, splashing droplets upwards as if she’s making it her mission to get Peter as wet as possible while he indulges her and piggy-backs her in circles around the shallows. Despite this, his face is plastered with one of the brightest grins Tony has seen from him in a while.

And honestly, that’s Tony’s favourite sight right there. Peter, back in the middle of Tony’s world where he belongs. Him and Morgan, together.

Tony closes his eyes again. He’s always been a bit of an anxious parent when it comes to Morgan and the lake, but he trusts Peter infinitely so he lets himself relax back into one of the picnic blankets they’ve got spread out on the lake bank. He was never much of a man to enjoy stillness and serenity before the snap, but right now he thinks that if he could spend the rest of his life right here, with Pepper next to him, his teammates and friends surrounding him, the sound of Morgan and Peter being _ kids _ filling his ears, it wouldn’t be a half-bad gig at all.

He gets about half an hour of uninterrupted dozing in the sun before he hears Rhodey call everyone in from their various spots on the lawn for lunch. Tony sits up, masking the wince, to make sure that Peter and Morgan have heard because Peter hasn’t eaten since breakfast and he must be _ starving_, but Peter is already wading out of the water, Morgan still securely wrapped around him. She catches Tony looking and removes one of her arms from around Peter’s neck to wave furiously. He throws her a mock salute in return, and as soon as Peter sets her gently back down on her feet, she launches herself down onto the rug next to Tony. She’s as close as she can get without risking knocking him about at all, and Tony wholeheartedly misses the way that she would throw herself on top of him only a few months ago, bony knees knocking against his chest and knocking the wind out of him in the best way with no reservations, but he knows that things have changed. She’s under very strict instructions to _ not _ do that for a while. 

She’s close enough to still spray him with droplets of water as she shakes the water from her hair in a way not dissimilar to a dog. Morgan’s been hassling them for a puppy, but turns out they obviously don’t need to because when he looks up, he sees Peter doing the same thing. It’s not hard to see where Morgan is mimicking it from then. 

“I’ve already been through the gruelling process that is having a shower today, I don’t need another one you heathens,” Tony gripes. Morgan just sticks her tongue out in response, but Peter at least has the decency to look slightly sheepish. 

“We saw a_ sea monster_, Daddy!” Morgan exclaims, completely brushing off and disregarding Tony’s complaint. Tony looks up at Peter, half in concern and half in amusement, and Peter just shrugs. There's explanation on his lips that he can't get out before Morgan pipes up again. “It was _ huge_, and it swam right by us! I wasn’t even scared but Petey kept me above the water just in case.”

_ Just an eel_, Peter mouths to Tony from behind Morgan. Tony fights to stop his lips curling up into a smile.

“Sounds like you you two just had a run-in with Nessie,” Tony says seriously, and Morgan cocks her head to the side. 

“Nessie?”

“Yeah, the Loch Ness monster,” Tony reminds her. She’d snuck downstairs when he and Peter were awake at midnight watching a documentary on that particular conspiracy on the Discovery Channel last week, and her eyes widen slightly as she remembers. 

“The one we saw was _ definitely _ as big as that,” she decides. Peter stifles a laugh with the back of his hand. 

“Well, why don’t you go and tell Mommy all about it? I’m sure she’ll want to know. Maybe you could help her bring out some stuff for lunch as well while you’re there?” Tony asks, and Morgan, completely missing the fact that she’s essentially just been coerced into helping out with lunch, nods eagerly. 

“That must have been _ scary_,” Tony says, sarcasm dripping from his tone once Morgan is out of earshot and Peter just rolls his eyes. 

“In fairness, it _ was _ a pretty big eel,” he says, glancing between the spot next to Tony on the picnic blanket that has since been vacated since Pepper went inside to prepare lunch, and the house. He looks slightly torn. “I should go help,” he decides.

Tony pretends that he hadn’t just been hoping that Peter would settle down next to him, not even caring in the slightest that Peter is most definitely still damp. Peter is more thoughtful than all of them combined though, so he just reaches down to grab his shirt up off the rug and jogs to catch up with May, who’s carrying a stack of empty glasses that she’s just gathered up off the porch. 

Rhodey drops down into the spot beside him only a minute later, and he startles slightly. He’d been too busy watching Peter retreat into the house. Rhodey gives him a sort of knowing smile that he’s not sure he’s a fan of. “Peter just left me to go help with lunch of all things. Am I really that bad company?” Tony wonders out loud dramatically, and Rhodey’s smile only grows.

“Nah. He’s just too good for all of us.”

Tony could never disagree with that.

* * *

Lunch is a relatively calm affair, but as the day goes on, everyone pretends not to notice the way Tony begins to get ever so slightly testy and anxious when Peter is dragged away again and again. First it’s by Morgan, to get rid of the centipede in her tent, then by May to test whether the amount of sugar she put in her lemonade was just enough (Tony tried some afterwards - _it wasn’t_), and when the afternoon is beginning to wind down, Bucky to equal the sides in his game of football against Steve and Sam. 

It’s after this when Tony _finally_ gets Peter all to himself. The kid makes his way over after escaping from the football game. It was meant to be friendly, but it sounds like it’s gotten significantly more competitive in the last five minutes. Tony isn’t surprised when Peter flops down next to him with a huffed out sigh. Neither of them got the doctor’s recommended hours of sleep last night. Well below it, actually. His senses are probably through the roof after a day of constant input. They haven’t had one of those in a while. 

“Finally get sick of hanging out with the wrong side, huh, kid?” Tony jokes but Peter just rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t say it like _that_. You don’t actually mind,” Peter protests, and he’s right, really. After working together to literally stitch the universe back together, Tony had figured that there were some grievances he could afford to put to rest. That was the top of his list. 

“Nah, I don’t, you’re right,” he mumbles, “still like having you all to myself though.”

Peter grins. “Sap.”

“Yeah, yeah. Morgan does it to me,” he pauses, hesitant, “and you. You do a pretty good job of it as well, buddy.” 

Peter’s grin grows wider. He shoves himself closer to Tony, and it’s muscle memory to both of them at this point as Peter makes himself comfortable against his side. Completely unashamedly, despite everyone around them, he bumps his head up against the side of Tony’s shoulder. “You’re worse than a goddamn cat,” Tony jibes, but the action is immediately understood and he reaches out with his good arm to settle his hand in amongst Peter’s curls, scratching lightly. It’s natural. As if they haven’t been apart for five years. As if they’ve been side by side their entire lives. Peter closes his eyes in contentment. 

May nudges Happy from where they’re sitting with Morgan sprawled out over their laps. Pepper smiles reverently. Rhodey and Steve just catch each other's eyes. 

No one misses the way that Tony smiles down at Peter fondly once his eyes have slipped shut. 

No one has missed a single thing the entire afternoon. 

It’s suddenly glaringly obvious to everyone what they’ve been overlooking this entire time. It’s impossible to miss now, the way that Peter’s presence at the lake house and in Tony’s life seems to eclipse most other things. It’s in the way that his hoodie is thrown over the back of the couch, his textbooks piled next to Pepper’s novels in the reading nook. The way that Peter moves around the house like he just _ fits _ here, like he hasn’t been gone for five years. The way Peter seems to be glued to Tony’s side even more so than Morgan, who blissfully has no idea how close she came to losing her father. The way Tony curls around Peter protectively in return, as if to assure him that he’s not going anywhere. 

The way that Tony looks at Peter, in a way that everyone has only ever seen him look at one other person: Morgan. 

Peter is Tony’s _ son_.

And just like that, everything makes sense.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "pajamas" - gnash 
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](https://searchingforstarss.tumblr.com/)!


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